


Townsman of a Stiller Town

by Samsonet



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions, Pocket Monsters: Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon | Pokemon Ultra Sun & Ultra Moon Versions
Genre: Gen, others to be added as they appear - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25061482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsonet/pseuds/Samsonet
Summary: When a catastrophe at the stadium leaves most of the league missing or in critical condition, Piers is tasked with finding substitute gym leaders. That would be hard enough, but as he travels through Galar he finds that the attack that nearly destroyed the league may only be the first...
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Townsman of a Stiller Town

Piers doesn’t go to Hammerlocke with all the other gym leaders.

He’ll wish he did, later. He’ll wish he’d gotten up, slapped his face with some water, and forced himself out the door and in a taxi. He’ll wish he had done _something._

But he isn’t a psychic and he doesn’t know what will happen that day, so he doesn’t go. He stays in the Spikemuth gym, testing out the sound systems.

Sure, the event is supposed to be some grand inter-regional event between Galar’s league and Alola’s. Some rocking battles are definitely taking place. Piers has heard of the Alolan battle style, their dancing and posing for Z-Moves. He’s heard of their little champion, who took the position at eleven and seems like an Alolan form of Leon himself.

Would be fun to battle her. But she’s a champion and he’s a gym leader, and not even a good one. It would be embarrassing to show his face.

By this point, they’ve probably had three matches already. It’ll almost be time for everyone to go back to the hotels and get ready for tomorrow.

He taps the mic. The resulting sound is acceptably loud.

“‘Ey, Spikemuth!” he yells to an empty room. “Are you ready to _rock_?”

There’s a lone cheer from the back. Heh. Good old Joshua.

His phone rings. The caller ID says Rose, which means it’s Oleana. Probably calling to ask why he’s not at elf practice.

Piers isn’t in the mood for a lecture right now. But the next gym season starts in three months and he wants Marnie to participate, so he has to play nice with the league’s most powerful officials.

“‘Ello?”

“Piers.” Her breathing is ragged. She makes a noise that sounds like — she can’t be crying, right? Impossible. “Are you alright?”

“Me? I’m fine. Somethin’ happen?”

“Check—” Her voice cracks. It’s the most terrifying thing he’s ever heard. “Check the news. There will be a cab arriving in forty-five minutes. Be — be ready for it.”

She hangs up.

Piers considers the options.

Possibility one: Oleana is playing a joke on him. The stoic, solemn secretary of Macro Cosmos called him in a faux-emotional hurricane to play a joke on him.

Not bloody likely.

Possibility two: something did, in fact, happen. Something terrible.

What, did Rose croak? That’s the only thing he can think of that would make Oleana express a human emotion. It would suck, definitely. Billionaire developer or not, Rose is (was?) more-or-less a good person, and his death would definitely affect the league. And all of Macro Cosmos’ subsidiary companies. And Galar as a whole, really.

But then why would Oleana ask if _Piers_ was okay?

“Rotom, is there anything important bein’ reported on GBC? Er… Somethin’ about the league or Macro Cosmos, maybe?”

Rotom buzzes, then pulls up a video from the Galarian Broadcasting Corporation.

 **BREAKING** , the chyron reads, **DISASTER AT HAMMERLOCKE STADIUM.**

The newscaster is not smiling. “A wild Dynamaxed Pokémon attacked Hammerlocke Stadium, where the Galar and Alola Leagues were holding exhibition matches. The Pokémon is not known in Galar. It appeared on the home side of the pitch, destroying half of the stadium. The number of casualties is unknown, but so far there are fifty confirmed deaths. League Chairman Elijah Rose and Hammerlocke Gym Leader Raihan Qureshi are currently in critical condition at the Queen’s Medical Center…”

What the fuck. What the fuck? What the fuck.

The video was posted fifteen minutes ago.

Piers googles _Hammerlocke Stadium_ and clicks several news sites. They’re all variations of the theme: Stadium attacked. Dynamaxed Pokémon. Raihan and Rose fighting for their lives, the other league members yet to be recovered..

The death toll seems to rise with every article. It’s logical — Piers has to think logically — the stadium is huge, it can hold eighty thousand people — fuck, he’d always _said_ the big stadiums were dangerous but he’d never thought —

The entire Galar league was there. Everyone who mattered, anyway.

Only Raihan has been found so far, but he was still found _alive_. There are six others. Maybe they’d been near the visitors’ side, talking with the Alolan trainers. Maybe one of them had been on the pitch, far enough to get to safety when it all went down. Maybe they’d left early.

Maybe they’re all buried under the rubble, still alive, just needing to be _found_ —

If desperate pleading counts as a prayer, then Piers is praying. _Please let Nessa be alive. Please let Milo be found safe. Please let Opal be okay. Please let Bea —_

Bea is only a couple years older than Marnie.

_Please let Bea survive this. Please let Bea be okay. Please let Bea be found safe. Please let Bea be alive._

The articles don’t mention Leon’s whereabouts. He’d been there when the thing attacked. He’d leaped in head first to fight it. Of course he did. And after that —

After that —

Nothing.

The Alolan Champion caught the Pokémon. It doesn’t say how. If Leon is alive — if Leon had helped at all — they’d mention him, wouldn’t they? They love to paint him as the hero.

But the articles say _Moon_ and not _Moon and Leon_.

Where is he?

Leon is strong. He has luck on his side, too, doesn’t he? Where had he gone during that fight? Where is he now?

Leon has a little brother.

That poor kid.

Where _is_ the kid, right now? Piers hopes he’s asleep, or out somewhere where he doesn’t have access to the internet. He hopes the kid can hold onto blissful ignorance for a while longer, until the dust settles and they know if Leon is alive or not.

He knows it’s wishful thinking. What’s more likely is that the kid was watching the matches live. That he got to see the monster attacking as it happened. That he got excited at the chance to watch his brother be the hero, and then —

No. No. Don’t think about it.

Piers gets off the stage and walks toward home. He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body at the moment. He feels weightless, intangible. It’s like someone else has taken over. He lets it happen.

He keeps reading the news.

There’s a picture of the Dynamaxed Pokémon at the stadium. It’s dark blue, and at first glance it looks like its body is sunken in. As Piers looks closer, however, he realizes that the sunken in part is a mouth, and what he’d thought were arms were _tongues._

 _Beast,_ he thinks, though he doesn’t know why.

He fumbles with his keys. Tries again. Can’t get his hands steady enough to unlock the door.

Marnie comes and opens it for him. He’d told her to never open the door for anyone, even him, but right now he can’t care.

He steps inside, not sure what he’s looking for. _Be ready for the cab in forty-five minutes._ How long had he been reading his phone? Longer than he thought, probably, but there hasn’t been a call from Oleana so he thinks he has some time left.

He’s already wearing his uniform. He runs a hand across his belt, making sure all his teammates are there.

Marnie touches his arm. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

“Did you see the news?”

“No, I was playin’ Minecraft.” She pulls his sleeve and makes him sit on the couch. “What happened?”

Blissful ignorance.

“Piers, are you alright?”

He meets her eyes. He has to tell her. Something this big, it won’t be long before she finds out some other way. Better for him to tell her, while he’s still here, where he can hug her if she cries and tell her everything will be alright. (It won’t.)

A horrible realization dawns on him.

He’d wanted Marnie to become the gym leader. Marnie isn’t like him; she’s responsible. She would take her duties seriously. If she were the Spikemuth gym leader, she would have been there with everyone else. She would have been there and then —

He opens his mouth. Nothing comes out.

His sister waits for a moment. Then, when the silence stretches too long, she sits next to him and pulls him into a hug. “Y’ don’t have ta tell me now if you don’t wan’ to.”

He exhales, trembling. “Hammerlocke Stadium was attacked by a wild Dynamaxed Pokémon. A lotta people are dead.”

“Hammerlocke? That’s…”

“Yeah. Raihan’s place. He’s in the hospital. They haven’t found Nessa or the others yet.”

He feels like he’s breathing smoke, with how heavy his chest seems. But he keeps breathing anyway, because he’s alive and Marnie needs her brother right now.

She shows no signs of distress, instead simply resting her head on his shoulder.

Maybe he’s the one who needs her.

“Oleana wants to meet with me,” he tells her. “Probably needs me ta stand pretty for a press conference, let everyone know there’s at least one major leaguer alive and accounted for. I’ll be gone for a few hours. I’ll try ta make it back before too late, but I’ll text you if I can’t.”

“Okay.”

“Stay in the house, okay? For today and tomorrow. I’ll send the gym trainers to check up on you. I just — I need to know you’ll be safe.”

“Okay.”

Her voice is flat. Everything hasn’t set in yet, probably. In some time it’ll feel more real, and she can process it then. At least, he hopes that’s the case.

(He worries, sometimes, that he hasn’t taught her to emote enough and as a result stunted her growth. He himself had been too young to notice it as they were growing up, but…)

After this, he is definitely getting her a therapist.

He pats his sister’s back. “I have to go now.”

“Okay.”

*

The cab lands on Route 9, just outside the gate. This isn’t one of the regular taxis, Piers notices; it has Macro Cosmos’ logo on the side.

Oleana steps out. Her coat is torn and wrinkled. Her makeup is smeared around her left eye. Her hair is a mess. But who is Piers to judge? _He’s_ not the one who just survived an unnatural disaster.

She calls his name.

He approaches solemnly, the last knight of the old order. “I’m sorry.”

“Being sorry won’t change anything.” She breathes deeply, hands curling and uncurling as though she’s trying to hold on to something. “But… I do appreciate the sentiment. Come.”

Higher up, the air grows colder. Piers has always run cold, and he shivers.

“The gym challenge season begins in a few months,” Oleana says. “Even in the best case scenario, it is possible the rest of the league will not be in proper condition to take part in matches.”

Of course she would get right down to business. The show must go on, and all that.

“How are you organizing it? Are ya getting minor leaguers to—” Not replace. What’s a better word? “— substitute?”

“That is the plan, yes. It will not be easy. The other cities may not be as… dedicated… as Spikemuth is to you, but they still hold their leaders highly. We cannot just have anyone walk in and claim the stadiums.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t go well.”

“Which is why we need you to personally vet the candidates.”

“Yeah, that — wait. What?”

“Piers, you are now the highest ranked member of the league. I know you aren’t as public when it comes to your battles as Raihan is, but people do know you. They trust you.”

“They trust me? I’m the black Wooloo of this league, Oleana, we both know that.”

She turns. There’s something about her eyes, something sharp and determined like an Obstagoon.

“You could be the only survivor of this,” she says. 

He can’t say anything to that.

They fly in silence for a while. The wind blows around them, whistling through the Corviknight’s wings.

Oleana says, “All you have to do is meet the trainers, let me know if they are acceptable, and take part in some press conferences. _Please_ take part in the press conferences. Can you do that?”

Piers instinctively rankles at the concept.

But Raihan would do it, if he were here.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.”

Oleana breathes a sigh of relief.

*

The cab lands in Wyndon, near Rose Tower. There’s a group of reporters by the front door, waiting patiently for the story.

Oleana does not make Piers talk. She simply has him stand beside her as she outlines the plan for the future of the league. Piers is alive and well. He will vet candidates to substitute for the others. If all goes well the gym challenge will continue as planned, in three months’ time. The other gym leaders would want that. Rose would want that.

Any questions?

“What will you do about the champion?”

“We will likely bring in Leon’s predecessor for the final match. The winner will be the champion going forward.”

“What will happen to the Alola League?”

“They will likely go home. While Champion Moon caught the Pokémon, we cannot hold her responsible for what it did. I, for one, am perfectly happy letting her take it away.”

“Piers, why weren’t you at the stadium this morning?”

Oleana says, “Irrelevant.”

“Piers—”

“We will end the conference here,” Oleana says. She takes Piers by the shoulder, guiding him inside the tower.

“Thank you again,” she says.

“Least I can do.”

She fumbles in her pockets, pulling out a set of keys, a notepad, and a pen. “I have another request of you.”

“... yeah?”

She scribbles someone in the pad, then rips off the sheet. Removing one key, she wraps it in the paper and hands it to him. “Leon usually leaves his reserve team in his flat. I would ask the staff to collect them, but it would give me some reassurance to know they’re being cared for by an actual trainer.”

“Ah…” He hadn’t even thought about the Pokémon left behind. “I can do that.”

“It should be… a Mr. Rime, Seismitoad, and Rhyperior. Please text me when you’ve found them.”

“Will do.”

*

Leon’s flat looks like a normal living space for a man in his twenties living alone. There’s an empty takeaway container on the coffee table in the living room, some inoffensive Pokémon art framed on the walls. Piers would’ve thought Leon was the type to display his trophies prominently, but there’s not a trace of them anywhere.

One hallway leads to what looks like a guest room. There’s nothing of note there, so Piers turns around.

The other room is obviously Leon’s, if only because all the walls are covered with snapbacks. Apparently the claim that he had a collection of a hundred-twenty was true after all.

Piers considers looking under the bed out of pure curiosity, but he can’t summon the energy to be mischievous under the circumstances. The pokeballs with the reserve team aren’t in sight, so he tries to figure out where Leon would put them. Dresser drawers? No, only some messily-folded clothes. Maybe the desk drawer?

He checks it. There they are: a belt with three pokeballs, and the Pokémon sleeping soundly inside. All of them seem fine, and why shouldn’t they be?

But…

There’s another set of pokeballs here, in one of those transparent cases professors use. Piers pops it open, holding it up to see which Pokémon are inside. Grookey, Sobble, Scorbunny. Starter Pokémon, the kind given to children from well-off families who’ve caught the attention of possible sponsors.

Doesn’t Leon have a brother?

There are a couple of unsealed envelopes in the drawer. Piers opens them and finds his hunch is correct: Leon has written endorsement letters for the gym challenge. One has Hop’s name on it. ( _Yes,_ Piers thinks, _Hop, that’s his name._ ) The other is for someone named Gloria. Was Leon intending to endorse them both? Was he allowed to do that?

One of the pokeballs flashes. Suddenly Piers has a Scorbunny in his arms. It looks up at him curiously, taking his face in its paws as though to let a better look.

The other starters follow suit, leaving their pokeballs and clinging to his shoulders. They don’t seem afraid that a stranger is in their trainer’s house and their trainer is nowhere to be seen. They must have been bred for friendliness. Piers has to admit that if one of these is to be Hop’s first Pokémon, then Leon has given him an excellent set to choose from.

“Hello,” he coos. “Are you all alright?”

Scorbunny says, “Ba!”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He tries to set them down gently. It’s no use; they’re all holding tight. “Your trainer might’ve told you you’d be going to somebody else, but he wasn’t talking about me. I’m sorry about that.”

Sobble looks up at him with watery eyes.

Of course the Pokémon don’t understand . Piers isn’t sure if they could understand, even if he explained the entire situation to them. They’re babies.

They’re babies, and their trainer is gone.

Oleana hadn’t asked him to take care of these three, but that had to be because she didn’t know about them. Piers can hold on to them for now, and then...

Then these Pokémon need to go to the trainers Leon meant them for. His brother Hop and… whoever this Gloria person is.

Piers can do that.

He puts the letters in his inside jacket pocket and tucks the Pokémon in the duffel bag. It’s the first time he can remember ever carrying more than six Pokémon at once, but since he’s not going to battle with them, he figures it’ll be okay.

He has to go to Motostoke anyway. From there, it’s only a short trip to Postwick. He’ll go there and give Hop the endorsement letter and his choice of Pokémon, then ask where to find Gloria. 

He’ll go tomorrow, in the afternoon. It’ll be the least he can do.


End file.
